


flaxen hues

by Psuedorabbit



Series: je veux t'embrasser [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blowjobs, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Hunter x Hunter - Freeform, M/M, NSFW, Orgasm Denial, Porn Without Plot, Wine, degrading, garbage, hisoillu, hisoka - Freeform, hisoka morow - Freeform, hisoka x illumi - Freeform, hxh - Freeform, illumi zoldyck - Freeform, im so tired, very kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psuedorabbit/pseuds/Psuedorabbit
Summary: shameful; the first contribution of mine in this fandom is a few kinks of mine written all into one story about hisoka and illumi; porn without plot





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is solely for mine and lauren's own personal gratification and you can thank her for the sequence of ideas i guess tbh. chapter one is teasing and blowjob, chapter two is butt stuff

It’s sticky, the residual aura that clung to Illumi like some form of adhesive. He knows what’s on the other side of his window, knows what-- or rather  _ whom _ is standing on his balcony. Even still with this knowledge, Illumi still seats himself at his vanity, wooden brush stroking through oil stained strands.

It was only a moment's notice later that his balcony door was slid open, a man slipping through the doorway. Had this have been any other man, they would have been dead before they could even reach the second gate on the mountain-- but this was no ordinary man nor was this an enemy. A nuisance, surly, but not an enemy at this time.

Golden hues meet charcoal, such a sudden contrast as they both gaze through the same mirror, look through the same reflection that exposes them both and sheds light to the unspoken litany of upcoming events. Illumi was no fool; he’s recognized what the sporadic visitations mean. But, are they really sporadic? No, not quite. Although vague, there’s always a common occurrence that links each visit together whether it be from a previous fight or something as simple as the weather. Today, it was purely out of a tendency to cause trouble for Illumi. 

The assassin could read Hisoka like a book sometimes, others he can’t even tell what expression the man is making. It’s all a game of chance. If Hisoka didn't want to be read, then he would do everything in his power to prevent it from being done. That’s what makes him unpredictable and ever so slightly interesting.

Hisoka is elegant with his steps, one foot in front of the other until he’s directly behind the assassin to the point of near suffocation. His presence alone was thick, the pure scent of a mild cologne and the outside clinging to his frame and swimming through Illumi’s senses akin to a parasitic worm.

It seems like a staring contest, but it isn’t. Illumi feels hot under the man’s gaze, knows that those flaxen hues are picking him apart piece by piece until he’s satisfied. It’s childish for Illumi to think that Hisoka would know about the new addition to his  _ collection _ currently nuzzled between pert ass cheeks, waiting to be noticed.

Maybe Hisoka already knew. Maybe he didn’t. The quandary of it all was what made the assassin squirm in the most embarrassing ways. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the pros outweighed the cons. 

The look that was given spelt mischief and overall something daunting, but Illumi was eager for it. Eager to please and to be pleased. He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes following the movement of Hisoka’s right hand, watches it dance around the top of his head. Nails graze along the part in his hair, threading themselves through the strands slowly until they reach the tips. He repeats the motion a few more times, anxiousness flaring inside the assassin with each passing second. He’s eager, and he isn’t sure if he’s doing a very good job at staying composed.

The fourth stroke, Hisoka rested his hand at the nape of his neck, guiding his hand under and up the back of Illumi’s head. His nails once again scratched lightly at his scalp, tugging and massaging their way around until Illumi’s eyelids lowered halfway, his head lolling to the side. At that point, the hand was removed to the ends of the assassin’s hair and wrapped the long strands around his knuckles until it was pulled taut.

His head was yanked back suddenly, white hot pain searing through his skin and down the knobs of his spine until goosebumps littered his skin like stars. It draws a sharp gasp from already parted lips, eyes sealing shut. Thin eyebrows knitted together slightly, the entire expression not unnoticed by the magician in the slightest.

“Have I kept you waiting long, sweetheart? Oh, I hope not.” The inquiry comes off as passive, but Illumi knows better. He knows what his counterpart yearns to hear, and so Illumi replies in an equally passive tone.

“I’m always waiting for you, Hisoka.” It tastes funny in his mouth, to be admitting submission so easily. It makes him uncomfortable, and he supposes that’s exactly why Hisoka loves to make him say it.

_ It’s better to submit at this point rather than to feign indifference. _

Illumi puts effort into opening his eyes, which weren’t trained on anything in particular at first until they connected with the fiery embers of Hisoka and everything he stood in his bedroom for.

Hisoka is suddenly using his free hand to pass over Illumi’s shoulder, down to the front of his chest to knead at the muscle slowly, to feel the assassin's very existence under his palm and beneath his fingertips. A grin stretches across his unpainted cheeks, a slash of white in the dim room.

“I see you’ve taken a liking to one of the shirts I've left here, haven't you Illu?” It was true. Illumi was currently wearing an old shirt of his, a grey one with ‘69’ embroidered in black lettering on the left breast pocket. As lewd as it may be, it was also  _ extremely _ comfortable.

Illumi nods once, feels warm again even though there was nothing to fluster at. Yes, it was Hisoka’s shirt, what’s the big deal?

It was a huge deal, to the magician. The simple act of his pretty little Illu wearing  _ his _ clothing sent him in a rush. It was also an immense turn on when he wore the scented lotions and used the bath products he gives Illumi.

The clothes he gifts to the assassin are always shelved though, still adorned in their stickers and price tags, much to Hisoka’s distaste. He always left the tags on so Illumi would always know how much he spends on his little pet, and Illumi appreciates the generosity, even if it’s only for Hisoka’s pleasure.

There are, however,  _ other _ gifts that are used more frequently that are meant for his and Hisoka's eyes only. And damn that man if he never got him anything that wouldn't embarrass him.

He has a collection now-- the thought drifts through his mind as Hisoka is using his single hand to knead and prod at his pectorals and shoulder, the other locked firm around his hair. He recalls seventeen glass plugs and toys, all of which on the pastel side of the color spectrum. He even has a pretty little chest to hold them, crafted with oak and sealed with a silver lock.

Hisoka almost always kept the key. Tonight was one of the few times he didn't, and Illumi was ready to show the man how thoughtful he had been.

Hisoka soon grows bored, nails dragging across the fabric of the shirt until his hand rested on his shoulder. They looked each other in the eyes through the mirror for a few moments, Hisoka's grin becoming more and more unsettling.

“You haven't even gotten changed for me yet. Don't tell me you're getting scatterbrained, dear Illumi.” It's a teasing statement, and the assassin takes it just as well as a hydrophobic surface takes water.

His eyes are dull as they stare into his counterparts, eyebrows knitted together a fraction. “Certainly not. I just haven't had the time yet, so be patient.”

Hisoka pretends to think, pretends to decide if being patient is worth the wait-- he knows it is. Besides, he needs to grab something, anyway.

“I suppose you're right. Not exactly a shocker is it?” The magician begins, a wisp of a laugh passing his throat as he leans down, lips tracing the shell of Illumi's ear so his voice was a hot whisper against his skin. The assassin feels chills run up his spine, dancing beneath heated skin.

“You'll be ready for me when I get back.” Of course it isn't a question, it isn't a compromise. It's hardly a task or a favor. It's an order, and it's easier to submit to him rather than to feign indifference.

_ The pros outweigh the cons, that's all it is, that's all it ever was and all it ever will be. _

He releases the male entirely, stepping away from the vanity. Illumi feels like the pressure in his chest is lessening with every step Hisoka takes backward.

The magician slips out of the bedroom, Illumi left alone with tingling skin and a prickling scalp. He reaches up to touch where Hisoka had, not feeling the same shock waves as when the magician had did it.

Illumi misses his touch already, and it fuels the man to stand and make his way to his closet.

He passes the chest sitting on a shelf inside the closet, barely casting a glance toward it in lieu of searching through his clothes. It isn't like he has much, considering he doesn't always have to look nice on his missions, depending on what they are.

However, there's a piece that stands out from the rest. A silken, charcoal grey robe one size too big. It's a handful of shades lighter than his hair, a few lighter than his eyes. Hisoka compliments him greatly when he wears this, which is why he hardly wears it. Illumi likes to change things up once in awhile.

His pajama pants and borrowed shirt are dropped-- there were no underwear to begin with-- and the robe is slipped on. The left shoulder of the robe exposes significantly more skin than the right, and the sleeves pool at his wrists. The robe falls just under his kneecaps, tickling at the backs of them as the fabric is jostled while the rope is tied.

 

Hisoka is currently walking the corridors of the mansion, no, estate, having the blueprints of it already engraved into his memory. His heels clack obnoxiously loud against the tile, adding to the soft humming he was conjuring. There's a door now, a big heavy wooden thing with a brass handlebar and a thick lock.

This won't do, no no. 

Aura is now pooling at the tip of Hisoka's index finger, inserting itself into the lock and fiddling around until it's picked and falling open. That was easy.

Hisoka pushes the door open, flicks the nearby light switch. Walls beyond walls were filled with aged wines and shelves held the spirit drinks from around the world. It smells of aged wood and dirt, an artificial earthy musk that fits the scenery perfectly.

Tequilas, bourbons, vodkas, and even absinthe all lined up by the champagnes on the west side of the room. Hisoka wasn't in the mood for the hard stuff-- he didn't plan on drinking much of it anyway. 

He walks through the larger selection of wines, reads the labeling and traces his fingertips over each one.

Ah, here it is. 1787 Chateau d'Yquem, aged for years and years. Of course it was probably imported. The idea of using probably the most expensive wine in the country in endeavors that are less than amenable sends a rush of pleasant mirth flooding through his body.

There's extra wine glasses hanging from the above rack, the Zoldyck’s no doubt having enough glasses in the kitchen already. They won't notice one missing, especially if they notice their finest wine gone first.

Hisoka is walking out now with the bottle in hand and the glass in the other hand and locks the door the way it once was. His heels are clinking against the floor again, echoing through the halls with confidence singing in each tip tap.

There's a sway to his hips, a bounce in his step. Tonight he won't be bored, no not by a long shot. Tonight will turn into tomorrow and time will fly undoubtedly.

He's back at Illumi's bedroom again, opens the door and steps in with a swift catch of his hip to shut it behind him. Hisoka is met with the image of Illumi sitting back on his knees on the mattress, facing the doorway. How pretty he is, with silk fabric draped over skin and muscles waiting to be rediscovered and marked. How pretty he is, with his hair tossed in front of his shoulders and falling ever so slightly into his cheek bones, framing his jaw.

Hisoka's lips curve into another grin, thinks twice before locking the bedroom door and saunters over to sit the large bottle and glass onto the nightstand. He reaches forward, allows his fingertip to grace Illumi's jawbone slowly, right down to his chin.

He's pulling away now, but oddly enough Illumi is following-- ah, bungee gum. He's dragged further and further until he's scrambling onto the floor, a large hand settling on top of his head and pushing him to the tile floor beneath him. 

Illumi is flustered now, having been brought down to his knees by someone that dresses like a jester. He looks up, doe eyes staring up into ones that would not look out of place on an incubus, perhaps the devil himself. His hair is being brushed back again until his head is turned towards the nightstand. He reads the labeling, nose scrunched up in what could either be irritation or disgust, Hisoka wasn't sure but he wanted the wine whether the assassin liked it or not.

“You're going to pour me a glass of that, and you won't be allowed onto a standing position until I deem you ready to, understand?” Illumi nods once, leans up to kiss the wrist positioned close to his face. In return, he's rewarded with a gentle tug to the hair with a stroke of a thumb under his eye.

“So obedient, you've been trained so nicely.” The praise is nothing short of appreciated, returned with a brighter color of his cheeks. The assassin is reaching for the glass now, realizes his hands are shaking.

The bottle is quite heavy, and it's proving to be a daunting task to pour the wine without sending the stream hitting every edge of the glass. It was only when a few drops spilled over the rim, Hisoka told him to stop. He sounded stern and upset, but Illumi knew better than to believe that.

Illumi is guided to a standing position now, Hisoka lowering himself to sit on the bed leaning back on his arms.

“Need I tell you?” Illumi shakes his head, knows what the magician wants without being asked. He steps a few inches closer, knees bright red with abuse. The glass is tipped slowly against plush lips, Hisoka drinking from it.

It gives Illumi a sick religious idea of a deity at a throne, servants at His side awaiting their calling. A very  _ sick _ painting, the reality a twisted experience of it. 

By the time Illumi has thought of anymore unsavory similes to describe Hisoka with, the glass is nearly empty but a few drops. The gaze shared between the two had never faltered, a sauna like atmosphere wrapping around them like a blanket. It was much too warm in here for his own good.

The rest of it is swallowed within a second, the glass nudged away with a pointed finger. A lick of the lips with a slight bite to his bottom one. Illumi was very warm, eyes casting from Hisoka's eyes to his glistening mouth.

Since Illumi wasn't given permission to kiss him, he wouldn't. No need for a punishment, not tonight.

_ Unless Hisoka had something else in mind. _

“You can undress me. Do it slowly, I know how much you like to stare.” Illumi wasn't looking at him as he was setting the glass aside, didn't have to be to know that Hisoka had a coy grin on his face. Illumi has to refrain from making a face, nods again because he's a good obedient assassin, and it wouldn't hurt to admire the magician if only for a few moments longer than normal.

“Oh, and please do be gentle. I just had these tailored, and I'd hate to have all the money I spent on them go down the drain.” Again, Illumi nods. 

He's pulled by the waist to a kneeling position on the bedding between Hisoka's legs, the jester grinning up at him with the glee of a child. Illumi finds it a little endearing.

His fingertips trace the hem of the black crop top, unafraid to let his touches linger whenever he sees fit because he knows Hisoka enjoys it too. It's pulled over Hisoka's head and he reaches forward to smooth the strands back into their wavy state. Illumi always likes it when Hisoka leaves his hair down and skips out on the makeup-- he feels like he's on a little more of a personal level with the man, and that in itself was quite satisfying.

He folds the shirt now, print facing outward and sets it on the nightstand. Now, the undershirt. The pink fabric is raised high enough to expose hip bones snapping it free from its confinement tucked into his pants. It's within a second that his hair is in a steely lock, his head yanked to the side, neck arched in the most uncomfortable angle with pain prickling his scalp.

Illumi hisses, grunts when one eye is snapped shut, the other staring pointedly at the jester.

“I told you to take care, have I not? I shouldn't have to tell you twice.” They maintain eye contact for a few moments before Illumi regains himself, produces a stiff nod and his hair is released and a lock is twirled around a long fingertip almost mockingly.

The satisfaction in Hisoka's eyes made Illumi's stomach wrench, the need to patch up his own pride was growing by the second. Illumi tries again, an apology soft on his lips as he speaks to the small space between them. His fingertips rub apologetically at Hisoka's bare hips before he begins to raise the fabric up higher. The sleeve on his robe was beginning to slip, showing off his clavicle and a considerable amount of shoulder at this point and Hisoka wasn't above admiring it.

There's no more words spoken, only the sounds of fabric rustling and being folded were filling the bedroom. The undershirt, just like the crop top, was placed on the nightstand as well nice and neat just as requested.

Illumi crawls backward now until his knees thud against the tile floors again, glancing down to black heeled boots. Another glance upward, and Illumi is staring at Hisoka's chest and abdomen, the dim light of the chandelier casting shadows over the planes of his muscle, making them more defined.

With every constriction of the muscle and twitch of bone, it's almost hypnotizing. Before Hisoka could remind him of his task, Illumi is back to work on untying these bastards of laces. It's taking too long, and Hisoka is absolutely relishing in the frustration from the other.

They're finally off, leaving behind comically bright ankle socks, pink with yellow smiley faces all over them. Yet, Hisoka has another grip on his hair, pushing him further down to the floor.

“Are you going to bow down for me, Illumi? Will you even confess your sins, to your God?” Hisoka asks, notices that Illumi's forehead is pressed to the floor with his hair curtaining around him.

Illumi doesn't speak, cheeks burning in shame. Making it worse, was Hisoka's next set of words; “because that's all you're worth.”

The assassin mumbles something, Hisoka pieces it together as some sort of verse from the bible-- which one he wasn't sure but it was definitely religious and it was absolutely  _ delicious. _

“Get back to work.” Illumi doesn't have to be told twice. He strips him of the atrocious socks, sets them on the floor in front of the nightstand with the boots next to them.

It's sort of a surprise when he sees Hisoka starting to stand, embarrassment showing in his eyes as they're now level with a  very obvious and very excited cock. The only barrier between them were pants, and Illumi wasn't even sure if Hisoka was wearing underwear this time.

He wants to unveil his reward, to feel the heaviness of it weighing on his tongue and to have his nose buried all the way to the base. Illumi wants a lot of things, but he knows he has to wait for permission. The assassin doesn't look as he's pulling the elastic of the white pants he wore, pulling down slow enough to cause faint red lines to rise on muscular thighs from friction.

To Illumi's misfortune, there's underwear to remove, and it's taking everything in the assassin to not look up and beg. Begging would be his last resort. He'll just have to be patient and wait to see if Hisoka would be gracious enough to let him touch him, let alone to give him a release.

The pants are pulled down all the way, and Hisoka steps out of them so Illumi could fold those too and put them with the two discarded shirts. Illumi takes a small breath, tilts his head back to look at Hisoka fully, gaze scrutinized on the sultry look in his eyes.

The scent of arousal sent Illumi's thinking into a fine mist, his own glassy orbs clouded and muddled with the most degrading thoughts. His fingertips hook in the waistline of the tight briefs-- Heaven's sake, these looked like a teenager's briefs-- but before he could tug, his hair is in another lock. The long strands were pulled sharply, the previous sultry expression in Hisoka's eyes transmuting into one of disapproval.

“I have another task for you,” he begins, and Illumi can tell Hisoka is aroused just by how low the octaves of his speech are.

The wine bottle is snatched off the nightstand, the mouth of it kissing Illumi's lips and tilted forward. A hand is tangled in the inky strands yet again, holding him to the bottle. Illumi sips at it first, unsure of what this would prove. He wasn't even sure why Hisoka would grab the wine anyway, it's not like they could get drunk-- let alone on one bottle. However Illumi fulfills Hisoka's demands, sipping at the ripened and aged wine.

The pace of it is growing faster as the bottle is tipped up further and Illumi is having a difficult time swallowing it all. Thick red beads of the liquid were streaking down his lips, racing down the pale skin of his throat and staining it in its wake. Some of it was even spilling on his robe, but at the moment Illumi couldn't pay it much mind. He began to choke, the liquid gurgling around the bottle and causing a thicker stream to flow down his chin. It only caused the grip on his hair to tighten painfully, head snapped back even further. His brain was static, caught between the urge to smack the bottle away, and the urge to grip Hisoka's wrist and down it better so it didn't spill, just to please the jester.

He chooses the former, hands rising up to try and push the heavy bottle away, to swat Hisoka's hands away. Hisoka however, was unimpressed. The bottle is removed, a little more than half of it left, and Illumi is gasping for breath. He's sputtering and coughing it up, and it kind of looks like blood which makes Illumi's heart flutter, but he knows it isn't.

The sound of tsking was heard above, and Illumi looks back up to see Hisoka was visibly disappointed, lips pursed together and his thin eyebrows drawn together. Illumi knew better. Illumi knew that the man was obviously delighted with his disobedience, and was taking it all in.

“You've made a mess, haven't you?” He asks, squats down so he's eye level with Illumi and leans forward to lick at a stray drop of wine daring to drip onto the floor.

“You're quite disgusting like this, aren't you? So clumsy for a renowned assassin.” The taunt was laced thickly in his words, dancing with the smile creeping onto Hisoka's cheeks.

Illumi feels shame constricting around his throat and chest, choking out what insults he had on his tongue ready to blow. He bows his head, stares at the off white colored tiles with spatters of red across them.

“Hisoka, I'm-” he stops, pauses as a cool wetness is seeping through his hair, trickling down his neck and back and throat and chest. It's in his eyes, in his hair and clumping it together in a sticky mess. The hand in his hair is still very obvious, tugging even harder to force his head back. The last few shakes of the bottle's contents were spilled across his face, staining a good portion of it.

There's a cruel smile now, colder than the one previously. It makes Illumi shiver with more than just the cold liquid down his back. It's on the floor, he can feel it by his knees and the puddle is spreading.

“You were filthy anyway.” The magician decides, standing up in front of Illumi. His hand comes up, licking the mess off of the back of it with his eyes trained on his beautiful little mess still on his knees.

It was burning now. The redness in his eyes could have either been from irritation or from the wine staining them. It blurred his vision and made his knuckles fly upwards, to try and rub the pain away.

It was painfully obvious of Hisoka's arousal even more so now, and he sees movement behind the fabric of the underwear. He's told to finish undressing him, and Illumi is more than eager. Despite the shame and disgust filling every pore in the assassin's body, he can't deny his own need. He's stiff behind the robe, thighs pressed together tight.

He's just about to pull the fabric down, an anxious heat in his throat, and he's told to stop.

Curious and every bit irritated, Illumi looks back up to Hisoka, whom only points in the direction of the shower.

“I change my mind. Stand up and go start a shower.” Confusion melts into a blank expression, Illumi controlling himself to not make any snide remarks. They die off eventually, and as he carefully stands and walks to the shower there's red wine dripping from his hair and onto the floor. He's careful to not step in the drips.

The knob of the shower is turned, almost all the way to the red dot to the left. It's the temperature Hisoka likes, rather than his own preference. He thinks the magician will join him.

Making another trail of sticky wine, Illumi walks back into the bedroom, hair sticking to the sides of his face and the skin of his shoulders.

“The water is running. I believe it's to your tastes.” His voice is softer than he thought it would be, probably worn from sexual exasperation. Hisoka nods, strides forward to follow behind the assassin to the shower.

They stand there for a few moments, both of their figures blurred in the mirror from the condensation quickly growing on it. It's hot now, steaming up thickly.

“Go ahead sweetheart, take your clothes off.” Illumi doesn't need much more of an order, deftly untying the bow of the robe and letting it fall open. His chest had patches of red on it, as well as his knees and shoulders. Hisoka looks him over once, grins before he flicks a finger towards the shower.

“Go on. Leave the curtain open, I'd like to watch.” Heat rushes to Illumi's cheeks-- as if the events that already occurred weren't embarrassing enough.

Hisoka picks himself up, seating himself on the sink counter-top and leans against the mirror. His back leaves prints on the foggy mirror, smudging the condensation. Illumi's robe drops to the floor and he turns, feeling like prey rather than a human being.

He grows more embarrassed as he's coated in the piping hot water, causing all of the skin it touched to be tinged bright pink. Water flowing down the drain is dyed a dark hue, staining the floors momentarily before being whirled down to the pipes. It seems endless, the red water. Eventually the red grows pink, the pink grows pastel and then finally clear and that's when he hears Hisoka begin to speak.

“The most expensive wine your family owns literally went  _ down the drain. _ ” Hisoka laughs, finds it hysterical even. Illumi only sighs, pink skin turning pinker as his mind wanders to how vulnerable he actually is.

It feels more vulnerable just being nude doing something that's normally innocent, and has become stained with such perverseness that makes his skin feel raw with heat. Illumi can feel Hisoka watching his every move, can feel the golden gaze linger and bore holes into his skin. The assassin knows what the show stealer is; he's painfully erect and has nothing to hide it with except the soft stream of water.

He chooses to use Hisoka's soaps, his favorite ones of course. One of them is something that smells of cucumber and watermelon, the scent dull but overall very complimenting. He suds the shampoo up, runs it through his hair and takes care to not get any in his eyes.

Hisoka looks around, becoming slightly bored. He notes that a few body sprays are becoming low, and makes a mental note to buy Illumi twice the amount that he had gotten last time. 

The conditioner is eventually applied and all is rinsed. Now, comes the more embarrassing part; washing his body. Illumi grabs his loufa, feels eyes on his body once more as the soap suds up and the fragrance hits both men.

A throaty moan vibrates through the bathroom, startling Illumi. He pauses in washing the stains from his shoulder to look over at the magician whom was of course openly admiring his body.

“Illu, sweetheart you're such a doll.” The compliment makes Illumi shy, makes him turn away bashfully to scrub harder at his skin until the stains are gone.

Hisoka noticed something, though. His precious gem was recoiling from touching his nethers. It draws a laugh and a grin, Hisoka watching his feeble attempts before deciding to play with him again.

“Don't be so shy darling. Touch yourself for me.” Illumi's visibly surprised at that, stopping his washing to look over at Hisoka who only bares his teeth further in a grin.

“Clean yourself well.” It causes another round of hot blush to rush across Illumi's cheeks, sighing inwardly. It's as if he was being spoken to like a child, but with more perverse incentives.

Are they voyeurists? Hisoka certainly must be. 

Illumi takes the loufa, hesitantly lowers it to start to stroke himself. It's for cleansing purposes only, that's all. No need to be embarrassed. Despite his logical thinking, it did nothing to hide the heat in his face and the blood in his throbbing heat. He feels ready to pass out.

“Keep stroking yourself, Illumi. make sure you clean that pretty little cock.” Oh, how  _ lewd. _

Illumi stands there, stroking himself and being obedient once more. However, it's beginning to get a little too boring a little too fast for Hisoka. He's about to interfere, but he hears the most pitiful hitch of a breath, the sound picking up to a soft pant and topping off with a strained moan.

Immediately, Hisoka snaps his fingers to get Illumi's attention. “Stop.” It's said firmly, a little too quickly and Illumi is honestly devastated. He was almost there, almost to his tipping point.

The strain of it all was burning, and Illumi wasn't so sure Hisoka was in the mood to play firefighter at the moment. Illumi's head falls to the side, an audible sound of defeat rushing past his lips.

“Hisoka, please don't be so cruel.” The magician grins at this, hops from his spot on the counter-top to fully expose himself by taking off his briefs.

Unlike the rest of his clothes, they were kicked carelessly out of his way. Hisoka walks to the shower, peers in and looks over Illumi as if he hasn't been this whole time.

Water trickles down each curve and dip in the assassin's skin, cascades over every bone and hill of muscle. He oozes strength even when in such a vulnerable state. Hisoka reaches out, his hand sprayed with the soft touches of water as he reaches out to touch the man.

His fingertips glide over the taut muscle of his abdomen, slipping down to trace the underside of his shaft. It was warm, thick and inviting. Suds dance across the slippery slopes, their scent filling his pores and nose. Hisoka is absolutely enthralled in his new task-- his new  _ game. _

He's stepping into the shower now, side by side with the older Zoldyck. The eye contact they share speaks louder than words, yet there's no words passing their conscience.

The weight of the jester's hair is starting to grow with the spray of the water, and it's ever so slowly falling. It was already down but still filled with sticky and stiff hair products to protect it from the weather. It was a change from its everyday updo, but it lacked volume as it became more drenched. Eventually, the now dark red strands were sticking to his forehead and cheeks, seeming to frame his every feature, his eyes even more of a dramatic shade of gold.

Illumi was no better off. Skin pink, hair splayed all across his back and shoulders messily, and a throbbing heat against his belly. At least in terms of arousal, they were both the same-- but Hisoka was getting a run for his money.

Hisoka is smiling now;  _ when is he not?  _ His hand reaching out to pull the curtain. The steam is filling in the space quickly. It's cramped, but not necessarily unpleasant. Very warm though, if he were to account for the warm arms suddenly hooked around his hips, as if he were a toy won at a carnival game.

Illumi's neck is tilted to the side as gentle kisses are planted onto random areas of his neck, having no real path to take. It's nice, to be held by Hisoka like this. It's warm, and it's dim but it's Hisoka, and that's enough.

“Bathe me?” Comes a rumbling voice, and it takes a moment for Illumi to regain his voice.

“Sure.” The assassins cheeks are tinted pink like rose dust, teeth nipping at the inside of his lip before he's pulling himself away from Hisoka.

He takes the elder’s head into his hands, gently guides it into the soft stream of water to get it even more wet.

The product is still rough against the assassin’s fingertips as he runs them through the strands, making sure the roots got wet. He’s never seen the magician’s roots, and he still has yet to figure out if he was born with that bright shade of red. Illumi grabs the shampoo, runs some through the blood red locks until it suds up a considerable amount.

It feels really intimate. Hisoka himself even agrees with the unspoken thought, focusing his mind on the nimble fingers guiding through his hair and scrubbing with just enough pressure. It was sweet how gentle the assassin was, and it made Hisoka beam with more than just excitement.

Illumi is steady with his breathing, his internal clock ticking and telling him he didn't have much patience left with this man. Soft moans echo in the cramped space, goosebumps rising on both of their figures. Every other stroke through his hair, Hisoka would let out either a moan or a cute little throaty whine. It was endearing, but it was also making it harder for Illumi to focus on cleaning the man rather than violating him. Not that he would get that far, he was sure.

The conditioner is added after the shampoo is rinsed, going down the same drain that the most expensive wine in Japan has gone. Hisoka's hair is very soft when Illumi finishes, shining bright with health and thick with years of care. 

If anyone would ask the assassin about Hisoka, his replies would be blunt and borderline rude, but that's because things like these weren't supposed to happen. Assassins don't have friends, but since Father has Mother, then it can't be that bad, right?

Illumi finishes the process with a gentle kiss to Hisoka's forehead, tender and sweet despite his obvious desires. In return, he gets a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth, Illumi not even close to being the least bit satisfied but he took what little he could get for now, even if it killed him.

Illumi moves to stand in front of the man now, grabs another loofah and suds it up with a different wash that smells of sakura blossoms. It begins its journey across taut muscle of biceps, taking its time to completely run across the skin and muscles.

Hisoka is  _ very _ beautiful.

Illumi's breathing has picked up, and he's only just now noticing. Heavens know how long he must have been like this without even realizing it. Terrible.

The loofah smooths across his chest, runs slowly along pectorals and down to his hips and Illumi has to step closer to reach around him to get to his back. 

Illumi knows if he looks at his entire body, he'd be done for. A sopping pink, begging mess on the floor of the shower. The thought alone deters him from the possibility of begging, and his mind wanders until he's focused on the ever present bubbles and sweet fragrance.

Hisoka is moving as he's silently instructed to do so, a certain light in his eyes as he's set on watching his counterpart work. He can sense the desperation in his movements though, despite how slow they may have been. 

Illumi is scrubbing at his torso now, going through the planes of years of strength and pure brawn. He's slowly sinking to his knees as he moves his washing down to Hisoka's thighs, completely ignoring the organ between them in favor of making sure those thick thighs were tended to properly.

He makes sure to get every inch of skin on his legs covered in soap, scrubbed gentle enough to not disturb possible bruises and cuts that lay behind his Texture Surprise. Imperfections, in the magician's eyes.

Illumi makes the mistake of looking up directly, gaze met with that of his goal all night. It's pulsating and dripping with more than just water. Hisoka sees the look in Illumi's eyes, the absolute submissive sultriness that makes his skin crawl in a delightful way.

Eyes that are normally dull and wide were now bright and smothering with a flame that Hisoka entirely caused, half-lidded and aimed directly at him. Dark lashes obscure Illumi's vision only slightly, batting almost owlishly slow. The loofah goes up his thigh once more, visually asking for permission, because he knows his voice isn't stable enough to speak without embarrassing himself.

Hisoka's heart wrenched, his cock absolutely flipping with an overzealous amount of lasciviousness. He reaches down, gently strokes the tip of his index finger down the length of Illumi's nose to the tip of it, tapping lightly.

Illumi is about to wash his nethers, eyes never leaving Hisoka's, but he's interrupted by the loofah being swatted at. “I'd rather you clean me using other measures.” 

Illumi is confused at first, but with the expectant gaze he's given coupled with a slight jut of the hips, it sends Illumi fluttering with color. Of course he doesn't decline, eagerly positioning himself to take the head past his lips.

The assassin wasn't graced with a very wide mouth- he wouldn't of preferred it except right now- and just the sight of him trying to take Hisoka seemed comical. It almost looked like there was no hope of getting it in very far. He tries however, and that's what Hisoka loves to see. He likes to see Illumi’s brows knitted together in concentration, lips stretched taut over his hardened cock.

Illumi pulls back, licks his lips before flicking the tip of his tongue against the swollen tip until a steady pool of precome is beading and dripping. It’s cleaned up quickly, diluted with drops of now lukewarm water. As the assassin is in a kneeling position, he feels the plug in his ass shift, pressing deeper into him. Earlier it was shifting, but not nearly as much as now. He was loose, ready to be fucked open even wider and he wasn’t sure how much longer he can keep this mask of indifference.

He sucks slowly, allows the tip of his tongue to dip into the slit and every centimeter accessible. The tiny, breathtaking ministrations caused a great surge of arousal to reverberate in Hisoka’s chest, rattling his rib cage and the shower walls. It sent chills up the younger’s spine, urges him to continue on. 

A slow burning build up of tension is preferred, and Illumi is very courteous of the fact. His head tilts to the side, a tangled mess of hair falling over his shoulder. Lips were pressed to the shaft, tongue flicking at a pulsating vein on the underside until the man above him is dragging in ragged breaths. Pearly white teeth, straight and perfect drag ever so gently across the length, all the way down to the base. Another moan, another rock of the hips silently asking for more.

How could Illumi refuse? He can’t, and they both know it.

The hand that was previously in his hair is back now, nestled deep in the squeaky clean tangled strands until it was tight. White-hot pleasure rocketed up the knobs of Illumi’s spine once again until goosebumps tattooed his skin. His  _ clean _ skin. 

Illumi wants to smile, knowing all too well where to carry on from this point. He reaches up again to grip onto the magician’s thighs slick with water, drags his nails slightly as his mouth opens a bit wider until it burned. Hisoka is taken into his mouth slowly- even  _ if _ the assassin had a slightly bigger mouth it wouldn’t do much; the sheer girth of the man was overwhelming enough- and held back the urge to gag even though the tip wasn’t in the slightest close to the back of his throat yet.

His eyes water, rimming with hot tears. It doesn’t hurt, nothing really hurts except his pride but that’s long forgotten and the man scolds himself for his body’s reaction to his mouth being violated. It slides in and out with each confident jut of the hips, swelling with every moment that passed. Hisoka seemed to be composed, but Illumi knew just by the iron grip on his hair, that that was not the case.

Inch by inch, thick heat was pushed--  **thrust** \-- into the assassin's mouth, scraping against teeth and tongue and slickness. It was too much and not enough, too rough and not rough enough. Illumi's mind was like molasses, processing things slowly and only going on instinct. Tightening his grip on Hisoka’s thighs he already knows what's next and he forces his mouth to take just a little more.

He tastes blood at the corners of his lips and it stings with the salt of arousal and the leftover soaps. The thrusts are becoming faster now and Illumi is feeling the telltale signs of gagging but the thought is quickly pushed into the back of his mind in lieu of pleasing the magician.

His throat is suddenly full, oxygen alarmingly cut off as Hisoka decides he wants to give Illumi all of him and the assassin isn't sure to be grateful or scorned over the confliction. He can't breathe and can barely stand what with the amount of arousal sewn into his bones and locking his body up tight. Hisoka has the key, but Illumi thinks that he doesn't need to ask for it-- the magician will take care of him.

Illumi's skull is hitting against the tiles of the shower and it makes him woozy. The steam is something of a poison-- fogging up Illumi's mind until all he can do is sit paralyzed with a cock thrust so deep into his mouth that he can't even breathe.

It's when black dots pepper his vision, does Illumi lightly pat at Hisoka's knees, lets him know that he's beginning to get overwhelmed. Eventually, Hisoka draws himself out albeit slowly. Illumi is coughing, sputtering up a very lightly tinted pink mixture of both saliva and precum. He feels his cheeks and ears burn with what was either embarrassment or from the agitation in his throat.

“My my, that was longer than last time. You'll be so much better next time, Illu.” Hisoka cooed, words whispered with traces of affection and heavy with seductive ideology. 

Illumi raises his head, panting softly through swollen lips, large red eyes staring back into bright golden. They remain like this for moments on end, until there’s another prod of velvet skin poking at Illumi’s lips, demanding further action. Hisoka still hasn’t come yet, the assassin realizes. Illumi fixes his posture, sits up a little straighter and mouths at the offered thickness.

His mouth is stretched to its max, corners splitting and bleeding ever so slightly. It stings, especially with the saltiness of Hisoka’s essence, but that only encourages Illumi further. A personal praise for himself on how well his progress is. The hand in his hair is stroking at his scalp almost lovingly-- appreciative even. The assassin tastes copper and salt, sweet and pungent. The magician had an odd taste. Not unpleasant, just odd. Kind of like a twisted strain of nectar, in Illumi's opinion. Not that it mattered at the moment.

The moments are passing and the water is growing colder and colder, neither Hisoka's nor his own cock dissipating in size. It was growing increasingly more difficult to swallow the man, tears beginning to pool in Illumi's waterlines. He can hear croons coming from Hisoka, sounds of adoration and another hand is stroking over a cheek dripping with shower water. Illumi blinked up at Hisoka, cheeks hollowed ever so slightly. The motions just enough to send the threatened tears past his lashes and onto his cheeks mingling with water.

His head is pressed with more force, hair pulled tight enough to burn. Soft choking noises sound at the back of Illumi's throat, the torrent of tears thickening. His tongue is trying to move, to stroke at the underside of Hisoka's cock with as much pressure as he could muster. The muscle throbbed from the attention, pulsed with blood and pleasure. Hisoka vocalized his bliss, moaned it loud enough to send vibrations through the walls.

The magician was pressed flush against the cold tile of the walls, head thrown back with a mop of dark red locks in his eyes obscuring some of his vision. But he didn't need to see everything, so as long as he saw his little assassin on his knees in front of him.

Neither of them were breathing right. Ragged gasps moaned and gasped through the seemingly too small space, emphasized with a shiver and tensing of muscles. They were both coming undone, and it was only a matter of time before they would reach the zenith of their arousal. Well, at least  _ Hisoka _ would. Illumi isn't sure when he would be able to taste the sweet feeling of release.

The heated shaft is suddenly pushed all the way in Illumi's mouth, pressed deep enough to be felt at the very bottom of his throat. He was almost sure that the outline could be seen. It was held there, Illumi now full on crying and gagging. It was pointless to try and see past the tears, so he squeezed his eyes shut. Hips rocked slowly to a tempo that he couldn't recognize, a pattern that was unfamiliar. Almost all too soon, the muscle was extracted almost painfully, thick trails of fluid connecting the two.

Hisoka gazes down at the sight before him. Bloodied, swollen lips gaping wide, glistening and slick with unruly amounts of liquid. Cheeks flushed and stray inky locks tangled and sticking to paper white flesh. His eyes were shut, red ringing them as well as salty wetness. Even his nose was scrunched up, from the feeling of Hisoka withdrawing so quickly with so much force.

Another low groan from Hisoka, and he's plunging back into warm slickness. He's pressing back until he knows he's at the back of his throat again and keeps up with the rough and undeniably teasing acts. Release is slowly building up, threatening to fill Illumi's cheeks and shoot down his throat until he choked, but Hisoka was just able to stave it off, even just for a second. Just so he could repeat the process one more time, to replay the fucked out look on the others face, to hear the ragged drags of breath and choked noises.

Illumi’s spine straightened, head pressing just a little more towards the other male. There was hardly any space between them, and Illumi couldn’t breathe-- figuratively and literally. 

Without much of a warning, other than a toe-curling groan, a torrent of fluid crammed down Illumi’s throat, gagging him and causing him to choke. Hisoka was unrelenting, keeping the grip tight on his hair until the assassin felt as if he would rip it out. His hands squeeze at Hisoka’s thighs, looks for anything that could hold him still from the influx of essence that stole his breath away. It overflowed from his lips, gushing out a rich opaque color onto rose dust lips stretched taut. 

With a soft thump and splash, Illumi was released, slumped against the tiles of the shower. The plug-- which was never out of Illumi’s thoughts-- shifted even more; pressed harder against those sweet spots Hisoka teases him about. He’s shivering, naked and dirty once again. The way he fell, his thighs were spread obscenely wide baring not only his much abused erection, but his jewelry as well. Since it was such a bright shade of green, it wasn’t unnoticed by the magician, even in his post orgasmic haze.

Golden hues widened a fraction, narrowed moments later following a stretch of a grin. Lazy and crooked, completely boyish and alluring. It made the assassin want to curl in on himself, to try and shake away the warmth flowing in his veins. As if it was sewn into the aura of his existence.

“How thoughtful of you, Illu.~” His tone is a bit breathless, wary with the harshness of his release. It wouldn’t last long, though. 

Illumi turns his face away, doesn’t feel like responding. His throat hurts and he’s only just now regaining his ability to breathe. He feels warm hands at his thighs, slowly creeping upward until they’re settled at his hips. A nose is pressed to his jaw, lips to his chin for a gesture of affection. It isn’t rejected; Illumi more than happily obliged, going as far as tilting into the touches, now nose to nose with Hisoka.

His eyes opened slowly, only an inch or so away from his counterpart. It was a look of pure admiration, heavily subdued with lust and seduction. A soft swipe of a pink tongue wets Hisoka’s lips, an invitation for Illumi to trek onto familiar territory. The space between them is diminishing by the nanosecond and soon enough the men are sharing what looked to be a kiss of utmost romance. 

Behind the scenes, the magician’s hands were wandering, searching for a new path to take; a new route to hike and discover, to feel every inch of and not leave a single area untouched. Everywhere was burning, tingling and spiked with an emotion Illumi was not yet familiar with. He can only relate it to the feeling of getting his paycheck after a rather interesting assignment from Father, or even interaction with Killua. However, neither situation was quite as intense as this one. Neither of them lit the fire deep under the assassins skin, encourage the embers of the flames to scald his skin with every touch, every kiss, every whisper of a word.

It destroyed Illumi from the inside out, like a poison.

**Author's Note:**

> follow my adult trio blog on tumblr, @requiem-of-sin


End file.
